


Romance in Reverse

by clarityhiding



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Demisexual Tim Drake, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, JayTim Week 2018, Las Vegas Wedding, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000, Wordcount: Under 10.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-23 21:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16627043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarityhiding/pseuds/clarityhiding
Summary: Jason does not know what possessed him to agree to marry his best friend for the sake of college financial aid, but he did. Too bad he also happens to be in love with the guy.(Or: A married for the FAFSA AU with a whole bunch of other tropes thrown in to make things interesting.)





	Romance in Reverse

**Author's Note:**

> This is 100% a married for the FAFSA story, because how else was I supposed to interpret Day 4: College/Vegas Wedding for JayTim Week? This was obviously the logical choice. Obviously. 
> 
> Beta'd again by chibi_nightowl because she just doesn't know when to quit! \o/
> 
> By the way, "FAFSA" stands for "Free Application for Federal Student Aid" and is a thing here in the U.S. where students can apply for federal aid with tuition and such (as the name implies). I am far from an expert on the topic so do not use this story as a guideline for gaming the FAFSA system.

Three weeks before the end of the quarter, Tim bursts into the apartment, a crazed gleam in his eye. Jason shares a glance with Roy and takes a cautious step away from the stove and towards his friend. "Hey, are you—"

"We're getting married," Tim says, head snapping around so he can look him straight in the eyes.

Jason tries to keep his face blank, tries not to let the hurt he feels at this announcement show. So his long-time friend and crush is apparently engaged. To someone else. This is fine, everything is fine. "I didn't realize you and Stephanie were that serious," he says, naming Tim's on-again, off-again, sometimes-girlfriend.

Tim wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. "What? No, why would I marry Stephanie? I mean, I love her, but we can't stand each other for longer than a few hours at a time. No, _we're_ getting married. You and me. As soon as possible."

"And that would be my cue to leave," Roy announces, suddenly springing to his feet and retreating out the front door like a coward. Pansy-assed engineering major who can't handle a little drama.

Jason gulps, blinks. Tries to calm his racing heart because how is this happening? He thought for sure Tim—very straight, very uninterested Tim—wasn't even aware of his friend's tragic and completely doomed love. "Okay, I'll bite. Why are we getting married?"

The slightly unhinged look returns and Tim brandishes a sheaf of papers, nervous energy causing his arm to shake so much that Jason can't even see what's printed on them. "FAFSA application. They won't count me as independent unless I'm married because I'm under 24, which is stupid."

"Really stupid," Jason agrees, because Tim may be not-quite 18 and his parents may be filthy rich, but they also disowned him when he announced he wanted to study photography instead of business. It was a big to-do, Jason thinks Tim may have even gone as far as to get himself legally emancipated and everything. "Do you really need FAFSA, though? Can't you get a Wayne Foundation scholarship?" The Foundation will hand money out to just about anyone, and up until now, Jason's been one of those many lucky recipients. He's only having to scramble for money this coming term because he made the mistake of rescuing Roy from a bar fight last month and apparently the Foundation has a Code of Conduct that scholarship recipients have to follow.

The look Tim gives him is decidedly shifty. "I may not qualify for any and all scholarships offered through the Wayne Foundation on account of certain activities I may or may not have engaged in—that shouldn't even be relevant because juvenile records are sealed—but that may have also earned me spots on the watch lists of a few international law-enforcement agencies."

"O…kay…?" Jason isn't sure he wants to know exactly what Tim means by that, but he'll roll with it.

"Will you marry me or not? I gotta know pronto, the application deadline is next week. Jaime already said he'd do it if you say no, but I'm not sure his family believes in divorce and I thought you'd get more out of it."

"Yeah," Jason says, even though he knows he'll regret it, that it's a horrible idea. "Yeah, I'll marry you."

 

* * *

 

Roy offers his car for the 290-mile drive to Las Vegas, claiming it's the least he owes Jason after losing him his scholarship. "I don't know why we can't just have a courthouse wedding here. I thought the whole point of this was to _save_ money, not waste it on stupid trips," Jason gripes as he tosses his backpack in the backseat, just missing Stephanie, who is so consumed with studying that she doesn't even notice. "I looked it up, and the license fee is only $14 cheaper in Vegas. We're spending more than that on gas to get there."

"Yeah, but I'm only ordained to perform marriages in the Silver State," Roy says. "And I'll do yours for free."

Jason eyes his friend, not entirely sure what to think. "Do I want to know _why_ you're ordained or through what?"

"Probably not."

"C'mon," Tim insists, pushing Jason towards the passenger seat. "We've got our officiant, we've got our witness, we've got a three-day weekend. Let's do this thing."

With a sigh, Jason climbs into the car. "I still think this is stupid."

"By the way, I hope you're cool with me taking your name," Tim says cheerfully as he buckles in behind Jason. "Might not be the best idea to try and apply for any kind of government assistance using the name 'Timothy Drake.'"

 

* * *

 

The drive will take them a little over four hours under ideal traffic conditions, switching between Jason, Roy, and Stephanie behind the wheel since apparently whatever it is that keeps Tim from being eligible for a Wayne Foundation scholarship also prevents him from acquiring a license to operate any kind of heavy machinery, cars included. Considering that Jason's known the guy since junior high, he's really starting to wonder what-all his friend got up to his senior year of high school. They stayed in touch, Jason having already escaped Gotham for college on the other side of the country, but Tim never mentioned anything beyond typical teenage bullshit.

Jason says as much as they fly down I-15, adding, "Just, I'm starting to wonder who it is I'm marrying, exactly." He says it only half in jest.

Tim waves off his concerns. "Don't worry your pretty little head over it. I never did anything illegal, no matter what anyone may tell you to the contrary."

'Pretty little head?' Roy mouths at him from the passenger seat. Jason shrugs, feigning unconcern and trying to focus on the road even as his heart beats just a little faster. Tim says stuff like that all the time, he's learned to chalk it up to the other man spending way too much time around Stephanie. It doesn't mean anything.

"That's only because they didn't know they had to make laws against it until after you did it," Stephanie says. She catches Jason's eye in the rear-view mirror and smirks. "Hope you didn't have your heart set on an overseas honeymoon; this one isn't allowed to leave the country for another nine years."

 

* * *

 

He's washing his hands in a gas station restroom when familiar voices float through the too-thin door, catching his attention.

"This isn't a good idea."

"You're right—it's a _great_ idea."

"Tim, this whole thing is ballooning out of your control to the point of ridiculousness. Remember what happened the last time one of your plans got this complicated. Remember senior year."

"Legally, we're not allowed to speak of senior year."

"Still, the point stands. You should just tell him."

"See, now that? _That_ would be a bad idea."

"You've been friends since forever, practically. I'm sure he'll understand; it'll be fine."

"Shows what you know. Jeez, how long is this person gonna be? Shove over, I'm going in the Women's."

Jason jerks back from the door he pressed up against to hear more clearly; he hadn't realized so much time had passed. He waits a little longer to make sure he won't encounter either Tim or Steph when he leaves, then exits quickly, hurrying back to where Roy is busy filling up the car. The entire conversation has left him with more questions than answers, and he doesn't know what to make of it, what to think of it.

Doesn't want to think about what great secret Tim could be hiding that he thinks Jason will never understand.

 

* * *

 

Somehow, they make it to Las Vegas, find a courthouse, and, in under two hours, Jason and Tim are married. They grab some lunch, then turn right back around since none of them want to spring for a motel for the night and besides, it's not like anyone other than Roy is old enough to gamble. Plus, apparently a lifelong ban from all casinos on the Strip is one of the many things Tim managed to do during that year of youthful indiscretions.

"Do I even want to know what you were doing in Vegas?" Jason asks, eyeing Tim suspiciously as Roy pulls back onto I-15.

"Technically, this is the first time I've ever been to Nevada," Tim says, a perfect picture of innocence as he peers at Jason over his Astro 9 textbook.

Honestly, Jason really should know better than to ask at this point.

 

* * *

 

They drop Tim and Stephanie off at the dorms, then creep through traffic for another twenty minutes to get to their shitty, not-at-all-convenient-to-campus apartment. Jason kicks off his shoes, collapses face down on his bed, and is out like a light. It was a long trip and he's still trying to wrap his head around the fact that his best friend apparently had a life of crime and intrigue while Jason was suffering through GE courses and major prerequisites last year.

He sleeps for twelve hours straight. When he wakes up Sunday afternoon, he fills out the FAFSA forms Tim helpfully provided him with, then treks the ten blocks to the post office to mail them. It would probably be faster to do it online, but somehow it feels more real to dig out a pen and do the whole thing the old-fashioned way.

The next two weeks are a flurry of finals and papers and Jason barely sees Tim at all, they're both so busy. Sometimes Jason even manages to forget that he's now, technically, a married man.

 

* * *

 

Jason's sorting through last quarter's textbooks, figuring out which ones he'll keep and which he'll cart over to the village to try and sell back, when someone starts banging on the door. He's about to yell for Roy to get it when he remembers his roommate said he had something to do today and hasn't been around all morning. Straightening, Jason limps over to the front door. He really needs to get back to his regular exercise schedule now that finals are over, it's ridiculous that he's getting achy limbs just from crouching on the floor for half an hour.

When he opens the door, it's to Stephanie holding a huge box, 'Clothes' scrawled across the side. Jason blinks, more than a little confused. "Uh, hello?"

"Ugh, finally. I swear he put bricks in between his stupid flannels and skater-Ts, this thing weighs a ton," Stephanie grumbles, shoving Jason aside and striding into the apartment like she owns the place.

"Wait, what?" There has to be a reasonable explanation for this, but all Jason can think of is that, with finals week just about over, move-out day for the dorms is tomorrow. "Oh no, you're not storing your shit here over the summer."

"Oh, this is all Tim's," she assures him. "My stuff is, like, a fraction of all the junk he's accumulated."

"I'm not storing his stuff either."

"Relax," Tim says breezily, waltzing into the apartment with another, much smaller box, "I've already worked it all out with Roy. Now that he's finally getting custody of the squirt, he's eligible for subsidized grad-student housing come fall, so I get his room next year. I'll crash on the couch until then. Unless my loving husband would rather I shared with him?" He bats his eyelashes in such an exaggerated manner that it should just look stupid, but all Jason can think is that it's sort of adorable.

This is such a bad idea. He needs to stop this right now, before it can go any further. Unfortunately, when Jason opens his mouth to say as much, what comes out instead is, "I have a twin. It's not big enough for more than one person."

"Couch it is, then."

Crap. This guy is totally going to be the death of him.

 

* * *

 

It should be weird, living with Tim, but it really isn't. None of them are around all that much, working odd hours in order to earn as much as possible during the summer months before fall quarter starts.

Jason picks up more hours at the garage, fills in the gaps with a few hours here and there at one of the various coffee shops that pepper the village. The one he works at is the lone independent at a crossroads that has a Sundollars opposite one way, a Steep & Brew the other direction, and a Neet's catty-corner. He knows Tim works at the Sundollars down the street from campus during the school year, and figures the guy must be doing more shifts there until they nearly run into each other behind the counter while Jason's in the middle of filling an order one afternoon.

"What are you doing here?" Jason asks a bit dumbly, trying to wrap his head around the fact that Tim's even wearing his Sundollars shirt, he's just stuck one of those 'Hi My Name Is' stickers over the logo. Someone—Jason's betting Stephanie, since the writing is too neat for Tim's usual scrawl—has written 'Jeff' in the blank space on the sticker. He probably doesn't want to even know.

"Working. There's nothing in the company handbook that says I can't work for rivals, and it's all the same skill-set. Plus, people like that I know what they mean when they start using terminology from one of the other places."

"One of the other… How many coffee places do you work at?"

"When school's in session, I do the Sundollars and the cafe in the student union. They don't get enough business to bother with student employees during the summer, though, so here I am."

 

* * *

 

It's getting on close to ten o'clock when Jason gets back from the garage, having worked past his usual shift to try and figure out why someone's Beetle makes a skin-crawling squeaking sound. He doesn't want to do anything more than climb into bed, but he's covered all over in dirt and grease, so he really can't.

The mess is enough that it takes a good twenty minutes to scrub himself clean to the point that he can stand the idea of touching his nice clean sheets, and by then he's utterly exhausted. He's out like a light as soon as his head hits the pillow and doesn't expect to be aware of the world at large for a solid eight hours.

Which would be why he's pretty unclear as to why he's suddenly awake at, if the glowing numbers of his alarm clock are to be believed, half-past four in the morning. Something, it would seem, jarred him out of a sound sleep. Still more asleep than awake, he's at a loss as to what happened until a warm weight presses against his chest and a mumbled, "…no more…parsnip parfaits…" jolts him fully into wakefulness.

Tim Drake (or rather, Tim Todd, because what is his _life_ ) is in bed with him. His best friend, long-time crush, provisional flatmate, and unlikely husband is curled up against his chest and absolutely, completely, undoubtedly asleep. And currently treating Jason's pecs as his own personal pillow, with no signs of realizing his mistake and waking any time in the near future. 

Honestly, considering how Tim would regularly game until the wee hours most summer nights when they were younger, Jason is surprised this hasn't happened sooner. Many a sleepover ended in them sleeping on top of each other in Tim's bed back then, too tired to bother with the sleeping bag Tim would dutifully dig out and leave to languish in the corner. Little surprise that, when left to his own devices, Tim subconsciously reverts to years of practice, completely forgetting that this is Jason's room and not his own.

Jason should shove him out, force him sleep on the couch like he's supposed to, but he just can't make himself do it. Tim looks so peaceful, curled up and softly snoring, a familiar, soothing sound that Jason hadn't even realized he missed. Tim's been running on fumes and caffeine all summer, staying up late gaming with his online buddies, snatching a couple hours of sleep, then working back-to-back shifts at the coffee shops. Roy may think it's just Tim taking advantage of being out on his own and away from the restrictions of dorm life for the first time, but Jason has known Tim a long time, and he knows when his friend is trying hard to ignore something.

It's just unfortunate that Tim's avoidance tactics conflict with Jason's own.

 

* * *

 

When he wakes the next morning, it's practically second nature to just shift Tim sideways so Jason can roll out of bed. They used to do this all the time when they were kids, and Tim is no more a morning person now than he was at thirteen. If Jason does this right, he can sneak out before Tim wakes up and avoid any kind of conversation about what happened. Not that anything did happen, of course. Just. In case Tim has the mistaken impression that something did.

Roy's eyebrows are speaking volumes over his coffee mug when Jason stumbles into the kitchen. "So," he says, drawing out the 'o.' "I noticed the couch was very, very empty of your boy this morning."

"First of all," Jason says, dropping his clean clothes on the counter so he can fill a mug from the tap and stick it in the microwave, "he's not my boy. Secondly, yes, he spent the night in my room, but in a completely platonic manner."

"Which is why you're only half-dressed now."

"I'm half-dressed because I have work in less than an hour and I don't want to wake him up moving around in there," Jason grits out, shoving the microwave door closed a little harder than strictly necessary.

"Right, right. Still doesn't address the fact that he spent the night in your bed instead of on the couch where he's supposed to be."

"He was more asleep than awake and he didn't know what he was doing," Jason snaps. He leans against the counter and rubs his face. "His parents fucked him over for a stupid reason and he's always had abandonment issues because they've been subpar at the parenting thing for as long as I've known him. I wouldn't be surprised if he needs some extra comfort right now in order to sleep through the night."

Roy gives him a pitying look and sighs. "I just don't want to see this blow up in your face."

"He's my best friend, Roy. I'm not about to tell him no if he's hurting."

"Tell me no about… what?" Tim asks from the doorway of the kitchen, the question interrupted part-way through by a yawn. He gives Jason a sleepy, hopeful look. "I smell… coffee?"

Jason pulls out a mug and pours a cup from the pot Roy made. "Here," he says, shoving the mug into Tim's waiting hands before turning to grab his hot water from the microwave and search out a tea bag. "Don't worry about the other stuff."

"'Kay. Thanks, Jay." Tim smiles at him over the mug, sweet and sleepy and Jason's stomach drops out the way it always does every time he's on the receiving end of any of Tim's smiles.

"No problem," he chokes out. "What are friends for?"

 

* * *

 

"I wanted to apologize."

Jason fumbles and just manages to catch the glass he's washing before it hits the floor. He hadn't even heard someone come up behind him, let alone this particular someone. "I. What?" Twisting around, he sees Tim leaning against the countertop, dressed for work. Or, well. Dressed for this work, as opposed to the other one.

He'd forgotten the shift manager had asked him to keep an eye on the new kid today.

"For last night. Well, this morning," Tim clarifies. "I could give you all kinds of excuses, but there really isn't anything I could say that would make what I did okay."

"You were tired, you forgot where you were. I understand," Jason says, reassuring him even as he turns back to washing dishes and most definitely not meeting Tim's gaze.

"That doesn't make it okay. We agreed I'd take the couch until Roy moves out and I was a dick and didn't honor that agreement."

"It's fine. Nothing we haven't done before in the past," Jason insists. He bites down on his lip, stopping himself from adding how right it felt to be sharing a bed with Tim again, that he wishes he could wake up with that solid weight tucked up against him for the rest of forever. Fuck, he hates it when Roy's right.

"When we were kids," Tim insists, apparently unwilling to let this go. 

"It's not like now is any different."

"It's totally different, it's…" Tim trails off as the sound of someone repeatedly hitting the counter bell interrupts them. "We're not done discussing this," he says, and then suddenly the presence hovering behind Jason is gone. When he cranes his head over to look, Tim is busy with a customer, all smiles and politeness.

Jason would say he dodged a bullet, but he knows Tim isn't about to forget to bring it up again later.

 

* * *

 

"So, I think I should make it up to you," Tim says as pulls off his apron in the back room later at the end of both their shifts.

"Come again?" If Jason's honest, his mind is on other things—namely, whether it's worth it to try an catch the bus to the garage or if he should just go ahead and leg it. Not that he's trying very hard to think about something other than how the back room is practically a closet and there's barely any space between them or anything.

"The whole bed thing. It was a jerk move on my part, I should make it up to you," Tim says, clutching his apron to his chest as his face works itself into a depressingly earnest look. Depressing because it's looks like this one which led Jason to the horrible land of unrequited pining he's been stuck in since he was sixteen.

"Honestly, it's not a big deal," Jason insists, shoving his own apron in his locker and slamming the door shut.

"Bullshit," Tim snaps, quickly stepping between him and the exit. "It was a jerk move and I shouldn't have done it. Look, neither of us has a morning shift tomorrow, how about tonight we go to the pier, I buy you a chili dog from that place you like, and we play a ridiculous amount of air hockey?"

Fuck if Tim doesn't know all of Jason's weaknesses. "I won't finish at the garage until five," Jason warns.

"That's fine; I have to be at the Sundollars until five-thirty. This'll be great. We haven't had a chance to really hang out in ages. Not just the two of us, without anyone else inviting themselves along." Tim smiles, brilliant and heartbreaking.

Jason forces a smile of his own. "Yeah," he says, feeling weirdly hollow inside. "Great."

 

* * *

 

They debate taking the light rail—it's still new and novel, not nearly as grungy as the ones back in Gotham—but decide it's just not worth the hassle of dealing with MTA buses. Plus, there's no student discount for any of the bus lines during the summer and even with the current one-way flat-fare option, the blue buses are cheaper than MTA. They pick up the 8 in the village easily enough, walking to the stop together from the apartment after scrubbing free the grit of the day.

"Didn't think this all the way through," Tim admits when they shuffle onto the bus along with all the rush-hour commuters.

"Hey, at least most people are traveling away from the ocean instead of towards it at this time of day," Jason offers.

They still have to wait through four stops before a seat opens up. Jason immediately shoves Tim down into it, taking up a standing position beside him. "You should be the one to sit," Tim complains. "You block the entire aisle when you stand. I don't."

"Yeah, exactly; you're tiny," Jason counters. "If you don't almost fall over every time the bus stops and starts, you're bowled over whenever anyone walks by."

"I'm _not_ tiny. I'm compact."

"You should stop complaining and appreciate your boyfriend being so chivalrous," the older woman in the seat beside Tim chides.

"I'm not—we're not dating," Jason quickly corrects her, fighting to keep himself from flushing with embarrassment.

"Right," Tim says. Jason thinks he's going to leave it at that, but then Tim grabs his hand and twines their fingers together before turning to beam at the woman. "We're _married_."

She gasps in delight. "Good for you! Congratulations!"

"Thank you," Tim says, looking for all the world like a cat that's gotten into the cream.

Jason doesn't want to play along, but it's not like Tim's lying or anything. They are, technically, married. And it's hard to complain about anything that means he gets to hold Tim's hand. "Thanks," he manages, sounding half-strangled to his own ears.

"We're very happy," Tim adds, and he gives Jason's hand a squeeze, reassuring and awful. "He's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

 

* * *

 

Tim refuses to let Jason have his hand back, even after the woman disembarks and it's no longer necessary to maintain the fiction that their marriage is anything other than an economic arrangement for the sake of student aid. He's still holding it when he drags Jason off the bus at their own stop, though Jason can't really protest then either since it makes sense. The summer crowds of tourists and locals both make it easy to get lost in the crowd, and it's not like Tim particularly sticks out, shrimp that he is.

They head for the arcade first, Jason staking claim to a table while Tim feeds a twenty into the change machine. It's a dollar a game, which feels steep when he remembers the table at the community center they grew up playing on. That was free, but it didn't even blow air nine times out of ten when they first started using it. They got the center coordinator's blessing to try and fix it, and they must have done something right, since it worked at least half the time when they were through.

Since they've been playing for the better part of a decade now, air hockey is a serious and cutthroat sport to them both, to the point that Roy flat-out refuses to play against Jason. Which is fine by him, since it's gotten to the point that Tim's the only one who can really offer him any kind of challenge anymore.

"You ready for this?" Tim asks with a smirk, stepping up to the other end of the table and feeding in quarters.

"Of course. You just better be prepared for the long haul; we're definitely playing through that entire twenty."

"Duh," Tim says, looking offended by the very idea that they wouldn't. He rolls up his sleeves, drops the puck on the table, and it's on.

 

* * *

 

Later, when their arms and wrists are sore and they've both lost track of each other's wins and losses, they push out of the crowded arcade and onto the equally packed pier. "Here," Tim says, shoving a crumpled twenty at Jason. "Can you get the dogs and meet me in front of the aquarium? I just remembered there's something I have to do."

"You just don't want to wait in the godawful line," Jason grumbles, but Tim's already slipped into the seething mass of people, so his accusation goes unheard. Not that he really minds—he's feeling good, happier than he has in weeks, maybe since before Tim burst through his door way back in May. He's missed this, the two of them spending time together, getting unreasonably competitive over stupid arcade games, shouting, cheering, just being friends.

When Jason finishes getting the food and makes it over to the aquarium, Tim is already there, waiting. "Let's sit on the beach," he suggests, already headed in that direction as soon as he's accepted his portion of the precariously balanced haul. "The sunset's amazing here, nothing like back in Gotham."

"Maligning our fair hometown just because it's overcast more often than not," Jason laments, though he privately agrees.

He pauses halfway to the waterline to take off his sand-filled shoes, and Tim apparently takes that as an invitation to sit down and start eating. The location's not bad—far enough from the water that they're in no danger of getting wet, close enough to the pier that they'll have enough light to see by when it grows dark. For now, though, they're both content to eat as they watch the sun sink down into the Pacific.

They sit in companionable silence for a while until Jason can't hold it in any longer, has to give voice to something that's been bothering him all evening. "I wish you hadn't done that, back on the bus."

Tim's been lying back on the sand, his head pillowed on his arm. Now he glances over, frowning. "Done what? Held your hand?"

"Sure, but not just that. The whole… everything." Jason wracks his brain, trying to come up with the right words to explain why the entire episode rubbed him the wrong way. "Pretending like we're married and in love and all of it. Gay marriage may be a joke to you, but it's not to me. It's something I might want do for real, someday."

"Wow, there are just… so many things wrong with that entire statement." Tim pulls himself upright, sitting cross-legged. "First of all: we're married. It may be for the sake of better financial aid, but it's one-hundred-percent real and legal. Secondly, I don't know about you, but if we don't love each other at least platonically after all this time, I have no idea why we still put up with each other's sorry asses. Because, let's face it here, we're both pretty difficult people to get along with."

Jason can't help his bark of laughter at that. "Fair enough," he acknowledges. He's trying very hard to not dwell on the words 'at least,' trying not to wonder why Tim chose to phrase it that way.

"Finally, just… wow. Bold of you to assume there's no chance I'd want to be married to a man for the rest of my life. Just because you're queer doesn't mean I can't be, too. It's not like you've got a corner on the market or anything."

"Did you just come out via meme? I thought you were way classier than that," Jason jokes, because he doesn't know how else to handle this, to handle Tim. His heart is beating a bit too fast and his mouth is feeling dry and awful. "Since when are you bi?" The biggest hurdle with being in love with Tim has always been his orientation, but if that's somehow changed…

Tim hums. "I'm not, I don't think? I dunno, I don't like labels, it always feels like none of them really fit me. But I know I like guys. Or, I guess. I know I like one guy."

"One celebrity crush doesn't make you queer." He wants to make a stupid joke, but he just isn't clever enough to come up with one when he can't even get his brain to work correctly, what with how oxygen-deprived it must be since his lungs have suddenly decided to give up on him. Everything's feeling a little fuzzy.

"He's not a celebrity… but he is the star of my heart," Tim says with utter seriousness, which is so awful it serves to shock Jason's lungs into working again so he can properly laugh in Tim's face.

"That's _horrible_!"

Grinning sheepishly, Tim rubs the back of his neck. He's clearly ashamed, as he should be. "I know, I can't really believe I said it either. I'd say it sounded a lot better in my head, but that would be a lie."

"One guy, huh?"

"Yeah. Took me a while to figure it out, since I'm kind of an idiot, sometimes." Tim gulps, rubs his palms on his jeans. "A lot of the time."

"You're not," Jason insists, always ready to leap in to defend his friend, even when his heart is silently, horribly breaking.

"I am, though. I didn't know how to handle it, went about it all wrong, and then a bunch of other things made it all more complicated. I… should probably start at the beginning." He's turned away from the bright lights twinkling on the pier, and when he lifts his gaze to meet Jason's, his face is all shadows. "First off. My parents disowned me because they found out I'm queer, not because I changed my major."

" _What?_ "

"Apparently, it's not that they have any problems with gay people, some of their closest friends are _like that_ —their words, not mine—but it's another thing entirely when it's their own kid. Said they were cutting me off until I 'tried harder' to be 'normal.'" He laughs, a sharp, bitter sound that is so far from amused that it feels like a different beast entirely. "So, yeah. Thanksgiving weekend sucked a lot. I spent most of it crashed on Steph's couch."

"That's… Why the hell didn't you just _tell_ me, you idiot?" Jason feels like he's on the rollercoaster up on the pier, the way his emotions are being jerked up and down and all around in hardly any time at all. "Or, even if you didn't want to share about that," which would hurt, because Tim's known him longer than he's ever known Steph, "why lie about why they stopped paying for school?"

"Oh. Well. It's sort of… awkward. They found out because my mom went snooping on my phone and saw some texts between me and Stephanie about, um. The guy I like." Tim pulls his legs up to his chest and digs his toes into the sand, like he's trying to turn small or hide or something.

"Okay… I don't see what the problem is." Jason's not a masochist, he doesn't want to hear about this crush of Tim's, but that seems like a stupid and inconsequential thing in relation to what the Drakes have done to their only child.

"Stephanie was badgering me, saying I should ask him out already. But then, after what happened with my mom and dad, I was worried he'd feel like he had to pity-date me, that he'd blame himself for my parents being assholes." He leans his head against his knees, bright blue eyes watching Jason intently through a dark curtain of too-long bangs. "It's exactly the kind of thing you'd do. You always try to take on everyone else's problems even when you're not even close to being at fault. Like copping to being the instigator for that stupid bar fight when we all know it was Roy, only he'd never get custody of Lian if he had an assault charge on record."

"That's…" Jason swallows, tries to get his voice to work. "Me? You like _me_?"

"No, I like the other guy that I found an excuse to marry, move in with, and take out on a date." Tim rolls his eyes. "Of _course_ I like you, idiot. Who wouldn't like you? You're smart and sweet and funny and caring and oh my god, don't even get me started on how ridiculously hot you are."

"This is a date?" Though, thinking back on the evening, Jason supposes it could be viewed that way, even if it's not what normally springs to mind when he thinks 'date.' If this is what dating Tim would be like, he could really get used to it. "That's really… I."

"I mean, I was thinking of it as one, but if you don't want it to be, obviously it can just be two friends, hanging out," Tim says in a rush. "Just because I like you doesn't me I expect you to like me back, and—"

" _Tim_."

"…yeah?"

"I like you too. A lot. Have for years." Jason swallows, wipes sweaty palms on his pants legs. "Can I kiss you? Would that be—"

" _Yes_ ," Tim says in a rush, and suddenly Jason has a lapful of furious, amazing, enthusiastic Tim, kissing him with such dedication and focus that they both forget how to breath for a little while.

When they finally pull apart, Jason has to lean back to keep himself from diving right in again. Panting, he smiles. "You really went about this all backwards, didn't you?"

Tim groans, hiding his face in his hands. "I _know_ , okay? I never said I was smooth, and for some insane reason I thought it would be easier to sort of come at it sort of sideways."

"Hey." Sitting up again, Jason gently pulls those hands down so he can see him. "It was a stupid way to do things, but it got us to finally talk about it, so I guess it worked out in the end."

"I guess." He tugs a hand free so he can dig something out of his pocket and drop it in Jason's palm.

"What the…?" It's a simple band, plain and silvery in color, with a tiny clam shell molded on in decoration.

"Realized on the bus earlier that we don't have wedding rings, so I got this and another one from one of the tourist shops while you were buying the food."

"It's a little small," is all Jason can think to say, because it is. It might fit his pinky, but there's no way it'll go around his ring finger.

"Shut up, they were the only rings there that didn't have dolphins or hearts on them," Tim says, punching him lightly in the arm.

"Thank you," Jason says with honest sincerity, wrapping Tim's hand back up in his. "I'll treasure it always."

"Good. That's what you should do when your husband gives you a gift."

"How about we stick to 'boyfriend' for now. If that's alright with you?"

"After the mess I made of things?" Tim asks, resting his forehead against Jason's. "Trust me when I say that's more than okay."

**Author's Note:**

> [I have a tumblr!](http://themandylion.tumblr.com/) Come visit if you want ridiculous AU headcanons, rants about the English language (and/or educational publishing), plague fangirling, adorable baby bats, and veeeeery occasional fanart.


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